


death as a fetish

by novub



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Accompanying Playlist, Arospectrum Karkat, Background Relationships, Brown Karkat, Childhood Friends, Complicated Relationships, Crushes, Dissociation, Drug Abuse, F/F, F/M, Flings, Fluff, Found Family, Friends With Benefits, Heavy Angst, Humanstuck, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mood Disorder, Multi, Nobody Important Is Straight, Nobody Important Is White, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pakistani Karkat, Past Childhood Abuse, Polyamory, Rating May Change, Slice of Life, South Asian Karkat, Suicide Attempts, Trans Characters, Warning by Chapter, nonbinary characters - Freeform, spirituality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-21
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-25 16:57:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7540630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novub/pseuds/novub
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which, amidst the rapid deterioration of his will to live, karkat vantas is faced with the good, bad, and ugly; he learns shit about himself he kinda wish he didn't know, shit he probably should have figured out earlier, and makes some pretty good friends along the way. the chaotic, entropic nature of reality kicks his ass, frequently, as does his own psysche. or something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. autopilot

**Author's Note:**

> this is mostly a fic about karkat vantas being way too familiar with how fucked up he is. (welcome 2 my twisted mind)
> 
> there's friendship dynamics and shippy stuff because those things are still relevant in the lives of neurodivergent ppl, but this is *not* a fic about how karkat falls in lurv and he's suddenly cured of all mental illness and trauma, woaw. 
> 
> i just wanted to project and angst so here we are! if you're the kinda person who likes reading mental illness fic as coping but can't find something legitimate + written by someone who knows what they're talking out bc experience, this is 4 you
> 
> stay safe n good luck out there
> 
> title is ["death as a fetish" by strfkr](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SXFDQ6xRlqM)!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> here's the [playlist](http://8tracks.com/novub/coping) i've made to accompany this fic! both works in progress.

exhaustion curves karkat's shoulders forward and settles in the dark bruises fitted under his eyes. his moody glare zeroes in on the bird swooping over the sinking sun back towards wherever its roost may be. he follows it until it flies dodges behind a building, out of sight.

ugh.

the humidity clings to him, which helps a little, since the warmth makes him feel a little less worn out. it wouldn't be too bad a night to die on, he thinks to himself. at least there'd be something to cling to, enjoy in his final moments. since everything else fucking sucks. he leans his elbows on the rusted railing and hangs his head, eyes closing. he listens to the sounds of cars below and, bitterly, wants to know, why living is so difficult, why the few things he enjoys are severely outweighed by... everything fucking else.

karkat thinks about the ferocious hope his father clung for all of his life, and how inspiring it was to see him resist worldly evils with fire in his eyes and love in his heart. karkat thinks about how that got his father killed. the world is merciless. karkat wishes he could take any compassion he has left in himself and stamp it out. daring to be positive is dangerous, he knows. the only thing that feels real at all anymore is rage. his throat constricts. it's all fucking stupid.

work in the morning, he reminds himself dully, having been on his feet for hours already. don't overthink yourself into a breakdown. but, you're already ankle-deep, he tells himself, what's wading in a little further. get to the eye of the brewing storm. get hit by some fucking lightning, what the fuck. who gives a shit.

as if to encourage this idea, thunder rumbles over the horizon, clouds rolling in like angry cotton balls, creeping up half the sky, spikes of lightning illuminating the space behind them. it's going to rain. it's as if the survival instinct that's gotten him this far takes over to get him back inside, despite how not much sounds better than letting the warm summer rain kiss his skin. karkat pries the creaky door open against what his heart wants to do, squinting at the dark stairwell he makes his way down. into the belly of the beast, it feels like. swallowed back up by harsh reality. the void. enough with the fucking melodrama.

raindrops patter overhead and he shuffles to the door of his cramped apartment, the shithole. a jingle of keys and he's inside. home sweet fucking home. it looks disgusting. he hasn't taken out the trash in days, or even consolidated it into a garbage bin to begin with. his counter is covered in junk mail, paperwork, and used dishes that can't be restricted to the overflowing sink. he doesn't bother turning on the light, knowing his electricity bill should be overdue about now, kicks off his shoes, and heads to the fridge, seeing what he can eat before it goes bad. by the light of his phone (sort of charged, thank god), he settles on a bowl of cereal. so what's left of the milk won't spoil.

he pulls back all the blinds, and the low dusk light settles over everything quietly. if he didn't know better, karkat would think he'd gotten robbed. but he did know better, and he knew that he hadn't cleaned up, which doesn't combine well with frustrated fits of throwing shit around. gotta channel the aggression somewhere, lest he murder an early morning customer at work. rubbing at the scars up his arm, he pushes laundry off the couch and takes its place with his bowl of honey bunches. 

it's good. best damn thing he's had all day. good ratio of crunch to sweet to lukewarm milk. the lukewarm part isn't that great but it's milk. it's good for you, and all that shit. dad used to have him drink it all the time. kankri didn't, and now karkat's got a good three inches on that fucker.

wiping his mouth, karkat sets the bowl on the table and maneuvers past unpacked cardboard boxes and the shin-height coffee table kanaya's mom gifted (also towering with junk) so he can wash his face and brush his teeth. he watches himself in the mirror warily, yellow toothbrush in hand. underye circles against oily brown skin, zit cropping up on his chin, dark shaggy hair that probably needs to be washed. thank god he payed the water bills. if kanaya saw him now, she might cry. 

squeezing glops of toothpaste onto the bristles, he considers this. how long has it been since he's seen her? three months? four? how little time it takes for the mind to stop giving any shits. work all day, stare at screens for a while, sleep, repeat. he rinses and spits. he's thankful kankri helps him out, 26 and already making a lawyer's salary. 

he doesn't done anything to deserve it, though. he pulls an orange pill bottle of many from inside the mirror-cabinet attached to the wall, ignores the smell of mildew, and pops a tablet. the fact that he's constantly fucking hurting doesn't help karkat in any regard.

he shuffles back to the burlap couch-- kanaya's mom is really fucking nice-- and collapses, palming his phone from his back pocket. if he doesn't get gas tomorrow, ha, then he should have enough to pay the energy bill.

buzz buzz, motherfucker, his phone announces a text from aradia. karkat's fingers go still.

"aradia?" he poses an incredulous question for the ceiling.

"aradia megido?" he asks his phone, now. "i thought those guys all forgot i existed." 

 it's not like... it's not like he blames them. it's not like he's particularly sociable these days. he exits 2048 and swaps to messages.

 

oh. well.

karkat turns the proposal over in his mind once, twice, three times. it'll work with how he said he'd take first shift tomorrow as opposed to his usual corpse impersonation. it's been a while since he's had to consider scheduling anything but standing behind a counter all night. it would be nice to see his friends again. steeling himself, he taps out, "SURE, OKAY, SEE YOU THEN." and hits send before he can change his mind. kankri's astral projection phantom-pats him on the shoulder, the self-righteous dick.

he hangs his phone-holding arm away from the couch, pillowing the other under his head. it  _would_ be nice to see his friends again. jade-- that's the girl aradia's been dating since high school, he thinks he remembers them starting off as a summer fling. rose is kanaya's girlfriend. he didn't meet terezi until college, didn't hear much of her once he dropped out. sollux... what was sollux doing, again? karkat feels like sollux's been doing weird shit since the third grade.

he drops his phone on the seat and rubs his eyes with the heel of each hand. presses. shifts so the phone gets lost under him. goes limp. karkat wonders how sollux is doing now, remembers the breakdowns in solidarity, the weird tension, how sollux claims karkat tried to mack on him post-graduation or something.

rolling over agan, karkat curls up like a fetus and presses his shins against the back of the couch. he wonders if anyone has thought about him since fucking... march? he knows kanaya must have, he calls sometimes, asks how she's doing, how her mom and sister are doing, how rose is doing. his brain supplies him with the idea that: nobody has thought about him at all, because he is mundane, replaceable, and brings no substantial benefit into any of their lives.

mouth set in a grim frown, he knows kankri only cares because he's fucking obligated to. the cereal threatens to promote itself to puke stain. he keeps his mouth firmly shut and swallows it down. wasting food would make him a worse person than he already is. something tightens in his stomach, and karkat realizes too late that yes, he has waded too deep into breakdown territory. 

the anger doesn't so much wash over him as much as hit him all at once. he convulses from how _wrong_  everything feels all of a sudden, existing doesn't feel  _right_ , there's something inherently  _messed up_ about having hands to clench or teeth to grind in the first place, it  _shouldn't feel like this he shouldn't feel anything at all it's wrong it feels wrong it's bad bad bad bad bad_  

karkat sits up, almost dizzy, and launches off the couch. _"_ _fuck"_ , he spits, trying to steady himself with a hand on the coffee table, knocking over the empty cereal. it hits cut-pile carpet with a dull thud, it should make a solid clack, spin a few times off because physics, but it doesn't make the sound it's supposed to make, everything is wrong,  _where am i_ , coherent panic bobs to the top of the emotional whirlpool before it sinks back under again, and his head is in his hands, and everything is wrong, how does he fix it how does he  _make it stop_ , how does he make this terrible feeling  _go away_ and he sees the cereal bowl and remembers brushing his teeth and remembers the meds and.

he takes a deep shaky breath, stumbles back over to the bathroom-- knocks a box over, something falls to floor, there are books all over the ground, fumbles for the other pill bottle, the one the doctor said should help with his  _panic attacks_ , his  _dissociation_ , pathetic, pathetic, he shouldn't need any of things, why can't he be fucking normal, and he swallows another tablet. twenty minutes.

the number solidifies itself in his mind's eye, a big two-zero, twenty minutes and it'll be fine. he sucks in big breaths, realizes he's on the bathroom floor. what else can help, anything, he needs the strobing red sirens in his brain to shut the fuck up. water, or something, music, music helps, something solid, he retrieves his phone from the couch, lays down on the cold tiles of the kitchen, plugs in the earbuds he extracts from the mess on the table, and cranks the volume as far as it can go.

the eardrum murder gives karkat something to focus on, he knows if he'd reached for the blade in the bathroom he'd shake too much and fuck something up too badly and he needs to go to work tomorrow, needs to go to work tomorrow. so he turns up the brightness all the way up too, strain his already tired eyes, it grounds him, the harshness. 

fucked up, it's fucked up. fucked up.

he squeezes his eyes shut, tries to calm his breathing, focuses on the phosphenes appearing on the inside of his eyelids, focuses on them so hard he can't feel anything else, forgets he has a body, it's just him and his music and this common medical phenomenon. that's all. karkat vantas who?

at one point or another, the drug kicks in, he chills significantly, and then his body recognizes exhaustion, and the lack of movement, and does its thing, and puts him to sleep right on the kitchen floor, the end of an eventful fucking evening. 

 

karkat's phone rattles against porcelain tile come 6:30am and consciousness settles over his bones with the rising sun. it's good he didn't turn off his alarms or something stupid, is his first thought upon realizing he is now awake. he rolls off his back and onto his stomach, headache tightening its vicelike wrap around his skull. autopiloting, karkat scrubs the crust from his eyes, pisses, runs deodorant over his pits, ties his hair into the tiniest fucking ponytail, eats a granola bar while his coffee brews.

his mug is dirty, of course it's dirty, so he grabs a styrofoam cup, adds three mounds of sugar, and realizes he doesn't have any milk left. without milk it is. he stills his limbs for a moment to sip from a water bottle and watch the sun fill the sky from the window he never closes.

refusing to tear his eyes from the vivid yellows and pinks, he raises the speaker of his phone to his mouth. "siri, what's the weather today," he says, voice scratchy.

in its usually leveled, automated voice, his phone responds: "looks like it's going to be got and sunny today. the high should be around 90 degrees." 

locking his phone, he leans back against the counter, shoes already on, sweater over arm. just gotta finish watching the sun rise and then start walking, shouldn't take more than 30 minutes, thankfully. he won't be late. he never lets himself be. 

karkat locks the door, too, gliding down the apartment complex's gross forest-green carpeted stairs and into full sunlight. it warms his skin, bones, and spirit. the cars zip by, and he feels secure in that the drivers are strangers to him as he as to them. he does a little jig whenever shuffle throws him a bone. his coffee's done, and he dunks the cup in the trashcan outside shell's convenience mart as he looks around for whoever was on graveyard shift.

per usual, the place is required to be kept fucking freezing, customers coming in from under the burning sun or whatever. weaklings. "vitamin D is important, assholes," he tells the malboros when he slides behind the glass.

"you're peppy today," says a grinning voice, and karkat looks up, eyebrows raised. "hey, egbert." 

"good morning, karkat. you haven't torn off the S from the sign out front, yet."

"xanax," karkat mutters, and john snorts. "i can't tell if you're joking or not."

karkat flips him off. they've only known each other for a month, tops. "are you doing anything else today?"

john pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose to rub his eyes. "yeah," he says, pushing them back down. "sleeping. i had a date, but she cancelled on me." he frowns a little. "i was looking forward to that."

karkat looks back out the glass to easygoing arch of john's eyebrows, the toothy grin, the dorky frames, and snorts. "bet you were." 

untucking some of his red polo to clean the glasses he might have noticed karkat staring at, john sways a little. "i'm looking forward to sleep more now, though, so i'm going to enjoy that, definitely."

an old woman in khakis enters and makes a beeline for the coffee dispensers.

karkat's eyes follow her. "i'm going to a friend's later. you should know aradia, isn't she dating your fucking, third cousin or something?" the woman shoots him a glare.

"i think i might?"

on impulse, because karkat is currently deluded, and unusually inclined to be friendly, personable, social-- "you could tag along."

"pump two, thanks," the lady grumbles at him, sliding a 20 across the counter. karkat moves to enter it on the computer, and shots a glance at her coffee. "two thirty five."

she sets three more 1-dollar-bills on the counter. he sets two quarters, a dime, and a nickle, and the receipt into her waiting hand. "have a nice day."

"i'll call if i'm down," john answers once she's left, watching her pump. a silver corolla pulls up at pump five.

"sounds good to me." karkat fiddles to change the radio station to something that's not sports.

the happy door jingle lets a tired looking dad in, toddler in his arms. "pick breakfast, please," he sets her down and grabs a banana. she hops and brings back a little plastic bin of golden grahams and a bottle of milk. her thumb retreats to her mouth. 

"that's my favorite, too," john grins wider, even though he should be home and sleeping. he nods to the dad, who smiles slightly and leaves to get his gas.

karkat jerks his chin after him. "get the fuck out of here, man."

john stretches, really taking his fucking time. 

"sign says no loitering."

"fine, fine," john concedes. he fumbles for his keys. "see you, then," and then he's left.

it's an average day, getting busy around 12, and then 2, and then 4. karkat watches the time on his phone, the overblown ac making him thankful he remembered his sweater. he turns at an angle whenever a customer comes in so they don't see the stain on his shoulder. pain in the ass. florescent lighting makes him tired, too.

4pm finally comes around and the new white girl he can't remember the name of and doesn't bother finding out takes the shop off his hands. the walk back home is uneventful, and  _hot_ , hottest time of day. the sweater comes off, and karkat lets himself grin a little. 

back in the apartment, karkat finds a clean, light white tshirt that should work fine for the evening. he slings a towel over his shoulder, determined to shower. do it for kanaya, is what he tells executive dysfunction when it wants him to sit down and not move again. 

he doesn't shave-- can barely grow facial hair for shit, and he wishes he could, if only that he could resemble his dad a little more. karkat grips his own chin in the mirror, and thinks that it looks like his mother's, and hopes for scruff to hide it one day. 

the water is cold and refreshing, and karkat smooths lotion out over his elbows like he was taught to. he refuses to comb his hair, though, ruffling it forward so it flops over his forehead a little bit and curls on his cheek.

"KANAYA", he winces as he writes the text. "I JUST PAID THE ENERGY BILL", groan. "NO GAS MONEY." god dammit. 

halfway through typing the most painful, embarassed "WOULD IT BE AN INCONVENIENCE TO SWING BY AND PICK ME UP?" of his life, little gray dots bounce into view on his screen. 

"I Am More Than Willing To Swing By And Pick You Up, Karkat, So Long As You Do Not Mind My And Rose's Probing"

karkat sinks to his elbows. "WELL. THAT'S A GIVEN. ISN'T IT."

 


	2. try to go with it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some alcohol, coming out

he hears the car before he sees it from his window, since it's pretty fucking loud. karkat smiles at his hands as he locks the door behind him, flooded with memories of how kanaya got that compact from her mom, who got it when _she_ graduated college. he didn't think a person could get so nostalgic over mournful, wet puttering and jets of engine exhaust.

karkat swings around into the parking lot and sees the beige civic now, tape over the taillight and rose leaning demurely on the passenger's window. "karkat," rose smiles over her shoulder as he slides into the back seats.

"hey, thanks for coming to get me," he says, sitting so his knees hit the armrest. he leans forward and wraps his arms around kanaya's shoulders. she grins toothily at him and adjusts the folds of her hijab. "it is good to see you again. put on your seatbelt."

"no! what the fuck, am i twelve?"

rose arches an eyebrow. "if the cake has to wear a seatbelt, so do you." karkat twists and sees a fucking two-tier sheet cake strapped in on his left.

"how the fuck did you get a two-tier sheet cake from a walmart bakery?"

"connections," kanaya answers mysteriously, "put on your seatbelt!"

since it's about six pm and aradia's place is a decent ways, karkat puts on his seatbelt like a good little passenger, but not before flipping off the both of them respectively. he compromises and props up his legs. "what kind is it?" he says, peering through the plastic at the vivid purple icing. "devil's food?"

"extra rich," rose says proudly, cranking the window down.

kanaya drives somewhat jerkily, not quite bad but not quite safe either, despite having been driving for several years now. "kanaya, that's the third fucking stop sign you've ran," karkat grouches from the back, tapping his foot against the back of her seat.

"yes well i am under the impression your driving ability could also use some work," she says, hitting the gas to avoid getting caught at a stoplight, and jerking rose and karkat forward as she has to stop at the one immediately after.

"it's interesting, really," rose begins, and karkat sinks all the way down with a hefty groan. the seatbelt presses against his nose, squashing it comically.

"of course, so much of our personalities are just collective behavior patterns, you know? the things you do make you, and you make yourself by doing things. so it would make sense that kanaya's driving style would be somewhere between aggressive and hesitant," she puts a hand out on kanaya's arm, who eases up speedwise. "we're on a side street, darling."

"of course, dear," kanaya acquiesces, and karkat feels a billion times less likely to die next to a sheet cake. well... not that he would mind it terribly. but he'd rather not go out screaming. gotta be chill.

"and you," rose continues, tilting her head like she knows what he's thinking, "unless your skillsets have developed further since the last time we rode together"-- oh my god-- "you drive like he who seeks death, karkat. chill the fuck out, seriously."

karkat snorts and taps a beat out on the cake cover absently. "i am totally chill," he says, "there's not a rule in the fucking handbreak you'd be able to argue i've broken--" but kanaya cuts him off.

"but you are aggressive as ever! it is not against the rules to merge across four lanes of traffic to take the exit, or to use your horn, for that matter! but _tell_ me that time y--"

"FOURTH stop sign!" karkat cuts her off triumphantly. "you owe me a soda or something, honestly, i'm getting fucking anxious back here."

rose, of course, can't help herself, and, peering at him, points out how "wouldn't soda encourage gastrointestinal disturbance? depending on how the symptoms of your anxiety manifest in particular, wouldn't that make it w--"

"oh my god," karkat pretty much wheezes, and before he can articulate some kind of comeback he loses rose's attention to house numbers. "8452," he says, checking his phone.

kanaya giggles as she pulls up and parallel parks a bit too far from the curb. yay fart jokes. she fixes her hijab again and retrieves the cake from next to him. all the doors shut with slams and they make their ways to the front of aradia's place. it's single floor, flat, with a stippled paint exterior and two windows, blinds shut but light shining through behind them. there's barely anything left of the sidewalk, it's worn away so much, and the grass is knee high, which, in karkat's opinion, looks fucking great. his nose tickles a little, and he cracks a smile remembering john's gross mucus-y sneeze marathons at just a little dust.

oh. oh, shit, john.

"well, FUCK," he says out loud, patting his all his pockets to locate his phone.

"what's the matter, karkat?" rose tuns around, as kanaya stands waiting for them at the doorstep, fist for knocking hovering an inch away from the maroon door.

"well fuck me, i invited a coworker and completely fucking forgot about it!"

rose covers her mouth and chuckles, watching interestedly as karkat scrambles through his notifications. he runs one hand through his hair. "he said he'd come," karkat looks up at the both of them. daisies on his grave would work, he thinks.

"call him," kanaya advises, tilting her chin at the door. "maybe we are not the latest guests and someone else can bring him."

"i mean, he could come alone, he drives, but, what kind of fucking friend am i, making him show up somewhere forty minutes out all by himself, pompous asshole he is?"

they both smile at him, amused, and karkat knows it's supposed to be reassuring, but the vivid image of stuffing the car's exhaust pipe with his own innards and drifting off to carbon monoxide poisoning drives everything else from mind. that would ruin kanaya's car, though, and probably upset her, and the thought makes him feel present again.

"yeah. i'll call him. i guess. he might already be on his way." he dials john.

"hey, karkat!" john picks up second ring, sounding cheerful and rested. "i'm on my way, so don't worry about being a bad friend, asshole."

"you're being generous to yourself," karkat bites back, tide of self loathing receding slowly. "we're coworkers, john."

"well you snark at me enough that i'm going to call you my friend so you're not actually being mean. you know. gotta compromise, buddy."

"fuck you," karkat pinches the bridge of his nose, and john snorts. "i should focus on the road. be there soonish," he promises, and hangs up.

rose smiles at him, eyes half-lidded in the look that karkat knows to mean I won't forget this. sigh. he gestures at the door. "you guys didn't have to wait for me."

kanaya grins. "you do know it is fun watching you flounder, karkat," and karkat flips her off, yet again, before taking the cake from her. rose knocks.

"araaaaadia!"

the door flings open, and aradia's face swims into view, cheerful, curly hair a cloud that makes her look angelic, almost. the effect is definitely exacerbated by the smell of food that drifts to meet them.

"HEY guys," she chippers, "come on in!" now she takes the cake from karkat, oo-ing and aah-ing at rose about it.

"the purple is so you," she grins slyly, and puts it on the counter next to platters of beans and rice and three kinds of meat and roasted corn and chili and god damn is he glad he has a friend that can cook.

"did you make all this?" he asks, almost disbelievingly, and she launches forward to hug him before he can object. he squawks and almost trips backwards into jade, who comes up behind him.

"she had help from me!" jade says proudly, and he squawks again as jade now captures him in a bone crushing embrace before making rose and kanaya her next targets.

"you guys and hugs," karkat gurgles, smoothing out his tshirt. he knows aradia likes warmth as much as he does, and is thankful he was right to not bring his sweater.

he sees rapid movement on the tv, and is surprised to see super smash bros instead of like, halo or something. sollux is attacking the game controller from the floor, eyes only for the screen, so karkat divetackles. "look AROUND, sollux,"

sollux squawks and flails, which is worse than karkat, so he feels a little better about himself for a second, until sollux accidentally (it better be accidentally) backhands him.

karkat ends up sort of in sollux's lap, which is awkward as fuck and sort of really embarrassing, so he launches back upright and tries to act cool. "what the fuck is your problem," sollux lisps, unimpressed.

"my problem is that, i have not seen you since fucking march probably, and you're paying attention to smash instead of me!"

sollux look at him, judging, and turns back to the screen. stone cold. "yeah well deal with it."

a door opens down the hallway and terezi exits, red and white cane wapping the baseboard. "do i hear KARKAT?" she crows, mouth full of shark teeth.

"yup," sollux affirms, shooting her a glance before going back to thumb twiddling. she cheers and makes her away around the arm of the couch. "help a blind girl sit down, be a gentleman," she points at where she can hear karkat groaning. he rises anyway.

"you don't need help sitting down, you opportunist asshole, you could stab me where i stand without so much as fucking doubting your aim," he holds her arm as she settles into the cushions.

"good to know you haven't forgotten your place!" and she feels his face, finds his cheek, and pats it.

"i'm never going to get used to that shit," he says, turning to face the kitchen. "you guys getting over here anytime soon or what?"

it looks like an impromptu double date, or like, a pda-off or something, rose leaning her head on kanaya's shoulder, both of them swaying. jade has one arm slung around aradia, the other tucking aradia's hair behind her ear and planting a smooch there. aradia giggles and looks at karkat with an eyebrow arched. "i don't now, we're having a great time over here," she says.

"'course you are," he flops back onto the couch, legs hanging over the armrest. "sollux, gimme a controller."

"get it yourthelf." why did he even fucking ask. he flicks sollux's forehead and swoops to retrieve his prize from by terezi's knee.

"what are you playing?" both her eyebrows rise. "sounds like smash!"

"it's smash," karkat affirms, "and sollux is playing against AI when there's a house full of real fucking human beings." he aims a kick at the back of sollux's head, but sollux ducks and twists karkat's ankle away.

"i want to play!" terezi moves her legs to karkat's lap, and he grumbles. "give me a turn!"

"jesus christ, terezi, i only just got a hold of this fucking controller, can you chill the fuck out and get some basic gaming courtesy?" he furrows his brows and goes back to trying to murder kirby.

 "i think  _you_ need to chill, karkat," and oh hey there's john, grinning, followed by jade, who is also grinning. "i've mentioned john before right, sollux, terezi?"

"he's my coworker and he's a fucking idiot," karkat informs them both, jerking his chin at john in acknowledgement. 

"that's me!" john moves to sit on the middle of the couch, but is thwarted by terezi's toothpick legs. he rebounds for the floor with a face that says he hopes nobody saw. but karkat saw. 

he lets himself grin a little. "glad you made it, egbert."

aradia leans over the back of the couch. "holy shit, what the fuck! karkat, are you smiling? you look so cute!"

terezi lights up, feeling for his face again, laughing, and karkat yelps, wresting her hand away. "what the-- fuck, oh my god, terezi! aradia,"

carrying some of the chairs that karkat saw lined up at the breakfast bar, jade takes a seat at the far wall and kicks her feet. "you _suck_ at this, karkat," she laughs. 

"shut up! i'm trying to murder kirby!" and then he's dead.

sollux punches the air triumphantly. "you really do suck, karkat." he gets up to stretch, and hands his controller to aradia when she reaches out for it. karkat collapses dramatically, groaning. terezi steals her chance.

in a rose-learned gesture, kanaya brings a hand up to her mouth, eyebrows raised. "karkat has always been terrible at gaming," she says mischievously. "i had many a victory over him at duck hunt. street fighter is one thing, but duck hunt? that is an entirely new level of sucking."

"okay, i fucking get it, let me live," karkat grumps. "terezi, rose is lying to you, aradia's on the other side--, no, yes, use your combo move-- what the fuck!"

"CHARIZARD WINS," the game boasts, and terezi crows giddily. 

aradia chinhands. "what the fuck?"

"yeah, what the fuck?" john adds in from the floor. he points at terezi. "aren't you blind?"

terezi grins with her shark teeth again. "one hundred percent, and proud!"

"then how the fuck--"

"i used to be able to see! i know how aradia plays!"

"that still doesn't explain anything," sollux says, "so what the fuck?"

karkat frees himself from terezi's wriggling feet and joins aradia behind the couch. rose steals his spot quickly, and then the controller from aradia.

"just go with it," karkat says. "so what have you all been up to? especially you, sollux, i have no idea what the fuck you're doing."

"i don't think sollux himself knows what the fuck he's doing," jade says. "ever since robotics in high school it's like-- what? nobody knows. all we know is that it's probably tech related."

"of course it's tech related," sollux scoffs, returning from the kitchen with a bowl of chips. "i'm freelance. people commission me to write programs for them and shit."

karkat wags his eyebrows. "and how many commissioners have you scared away with the stinking miasma that is your personality?" he taps his temple with one finger. "customer service is wrecked to hell and back, captor," he says, dodging the corn chip sollux throws at him.

"i'm doing freelance too," jade says proudly, grinning at her girlfriend. "'cept it's robots. my most recent project was this AUV for aradia's work, really cool. archaeology meets modern technology."she meshes her fingers together. 

rose perks up. "yes, aradia-- museum work, right?" she makes a greedy face. "could you get me any specimens?"

"nope," aradia replies, puffing up her chest. "i'm an honest student of cool dead things, lalonde, get your own specimens. you're in grad school?"

rose winces as terezi's charizard fucking destroys her Dark Pit. "yes, i am aiming for therapeutic licensing. terezi's going to be a lawyer."

"duh."

kanaya plucks a handful of chips from the bowl. "i continue to tell rose she would be a terrible therapist. but she is in it for the money."

"and the prestige."

karkat makes a face at lalonde, nostrils flaring, one eyebrow up. "your clients are going to feel so much fucking worse after their sessions with you than before," he says. 

"catharsis," rose explains. "sometimes an individual has to confront and fully re-experience the emotions they have repressed, even if they are painful, to attain closure and be able to move on past that particular trauma!"

john leans back on his hands. "me and karkat are just simple gas station employees, but shouldn't that be an informed choice to make?" 

"hell," karkat says aimlessly. "thank god you've got like, three fucking years left of stuff to learn, huh?"

"definitely does act like she knows everything," terezi says seriously. "which is why she'll get-- BLINDSIDED!-- and never see me comin-- CHARIZARD WINS!"

"oh, christ."

"what about you, kanaya?" john looks up at her towering on her chair.

"oh, you know... i would like to have a business of my own, which i am working towards." she twirls the loose end of her hijab around her finger. "textiles, seamstress services, that general area of things."

"that sounds nice," john smiles. "i think it's cool to see how so many of you are like, following your dreams and shit. it's awesome."

karkat gives him a look. "eloquent."

"i know, thanks."

the conversation deteriorates into something less important, something about bowser versus R.O.B. and karkat cannot find himself giving a shit. he steps away to the kitchen for a glass of water. people have been here long enough that they'll start eating soon, so he steals a forkful of beans and then looks for a plastic cup out of habit.

damn. normal people use glasses and shit? he fills one up and chugs, reverted to his habit of staring out windows over h2o. 

"getting hydrated?" john is leaning on the kitchen's doorframe. whatever you call the arch thing when there's no door in it. except it's not an arch. 

he takes another sip.

"yeah. it's good for you."

john shuffles over to case the food. "your friend aradia seems to know her shit!"

"jade helped," karkat says, swallowing the last of the water. he hears terezi yell from the other room and peers behind john to see rose planting a wet one on terezi's cheek. 

"it was part of their conditions or something," john says, snickering. "and i think they've annexed the gamecube."

karkat smiles. "they always do, really. or at least, it's happened for fucking ever." he sets the glass down and rubs his eyes. "it's nice to see everyone happyish."

a knot in his stomach pulls tighter, but karkat wants to say this outright. he flexes his fingers. "we're all gay or bi or pan, mostly. we stick close."

john scratches his ear. "which of those are you?"

hmm. he looks down at the pot of chili. "i don't know. somewhere between bi and pan, probably." 

"me too."

karkat looks back up. "oh. i didn't know. that's cool." 

"yeah." john's quiet for a little. "it  _is_ nice to have friends like you, isn't it."

he missed this, karkat realizes. he missed having friends who get it. in all the different ways that he knows he's really fucking difficult to understand. something warm and happy pools in his stomach, and he can't help but smile a little.

"yeah."

sollux makes a beeline for the plates at karkat's elbow. "hey! no, i was here first, assfuck!"

"it's just  _food_ ," is the response, returned with an indignant "exactly!"

when everyone's got a plate heaped with food, jade cracks a beer and then someone else joins in and then almost everyone's got a can in hand except for him and kanaya. karkat stares at his hands and wishes he had a soda or something. in a surge of determination, he looks around for a soda or something. he sees the door to aradia's patio is open, and sees kanaya duck outside. wouldn't hurt to join her, he thinks.

"you okay?" karkat asks her, even though he knows she is, she doesn't have a problem anymore, she's been doing so well for the past couple years. he turns to face her should she want to go for a hug. 

"yes," she says, gazing down at him with her round, observant eyes. "i wanted to get you to the side, in fact." 

his stomach flips a little.

"how are you doing? you seem tired, have you had any flare-ups lately?" her eyebrows knit. "do you have the medication you need? have you been drinking water?"

his stomach ceases its acrobatics. "are you asking," he smiles, "because your mama is asking? or are you already taking the whole spitting-image thing a step forward?"

kanaya looks sheepish. "both?"

his shoulders sag. the thought of telling kanaya all the trouble he's been having seems unfair; they haven't met in person for months. she's busy. he's terrible at keeping contact with someone he considers his sister, for fuck's sake. he has half the mind to tell her everything's fine, put her mind at ease. except, this is kanaya. she has x-ray vision and a feelings radar and can spot his lies a mile before he tells them, most of the time. 

he tries anyway.

"yeah, i've been fine," he sucks in a breath. "tired, but which of us fucking aren't, you feel me?"

the orange evening light washes over everything and illuminates her high cheekbones, crooked nose, and dark skin. she looks like a movie still when she sighs deeply.

"mama is not feeling too well," kanaya admits.

all of his troubles roll back as far as he can push them, and he reaches up to meet kanaya's embrace. "i'm sorry," he says. "is she going to be okay?"

still holding him tightly, he can feel her shiver a little. "i hope so."

he wants to take all her troubles, god damn. he breathes into her scarf. he wants to make everything okay. snap of fucking fingers. 

god, god dammit. why is it so hard?

she straightens up, and he watches her cast her eyes out at the woods behind aradia's house. "i believe kankri might bring her down here sometime in the next few weeks," she says. "but rose and i-- we barely have space for ourselves, you know? we would not be able to host mama  _and_ your brother."

karkat looks at her until she meets his gaze and nods seriously. "okay," he says, channeling all emotion into sounding reassured and confident about what's bound to end up with a flare-up and a breakdown and a fight. on a lying streak today, motherfucker. "i'll-- i'll call him. ask him how we're going to go about... that particular fucking arrangement."

"thank you, karkat," she says softly, and leaves him to watch the sun sink behind the trees. he takes gulps of the humidity like a fish out of water. it'll be okay. it'll be fine.

he goes back inside.

after everyone has eaten their fill and caught up on months' worth of absences and packed schedules, rose and kanaya decide to leave, and terezi hitchhikes with them. sollux can walk home, and he does, tipsily. karkat looks at john, who's smiling and tapping the hard cover of his phone absently. 

"uh, should i drive your car?" john smiles wider. "i wouldn't have a problem with that, karkat!" he scoots forward a little. "i wouldn't have a problem with that, at all."

with jade zonked out on the couch and aradia in the bathroom, karkat feels like this is the first still, _s_ _imple_ moment he's had all evening. the tension melts from his shoulders a little. "ok, yeah. we'll um, do that."

john fucking  _giggles_. what the shit? is he in fucking high school? he couldn't have had more than two drinks. karkat puts his hands on john's shoulders and holds him at a more solid distance. "okay, john. let's go, i guess."

once he helps wash some dishes like the good guest he was taught to be and thanks aradia for the whole thing, karkat loads karkat into his own passenger seat.

it's a quiet ride, mostly. it's strange, always is strange, driving another person's car when you've got a brain like mine, he thinks, so used to routine and specifics. john helps him find the aux cord and he plays some tunes, rolling and soft and calm. the side streets are all shadowed with greenery and overgrowth, headlights revealing circles of it here and there, humidity muffling everything to a suitable calm. it's good. 

"i'm fucking exhausted," he tells john once he parks the kia and gets out, "so it's good that you're not far from my place, egbert, or you'd have me crashing at yours."

john smiles. "walk safely," he says, and waves to karkat until he's out of sight. he's a good, friendly guy, karkat thinks. sort of dorky. mostly dorky.

the keys fit well in his palm and the lights work when he tries them. he shoots aradia another thank you, a text to kanaya telling her to sleep well, one to john that he got home alright. another one to aradia that says he appreciates it. 

i don't deserve all these good people in my life, is what karkat thinks once he's cleaned off the counter and settled on the couch, teeth clean and face washed. but that's okay. that's okay. "you're a terrible, useless person," he tells himself, but that's fine. you can have this. you can have today.

he listens to music until he falls asleep.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> life has no mercy on these kids so they deal. they try to deal


End file.
